Now Is Ever Pristine
A Poem


Now, who is it that knows Flip through all the personal aspects — None are older than Now, Not even memories That adumbrate this scene Are older than Now. Who is it that knows? Now. Who is it that endures? Now. Now has no beginning — just Now No end — just Now A vignette — just Now. The pieces are here Now: The recognition of the things done The recognition of the knowing it is so The recognition of what might become… Where is this recognition? Now. Now is ever pristine. Action fills the scene. Recognition of what is. Recognition of its roots. Recognition of its tendencies. These are not separate things — They are the illusions of understanding. Choose a focus — What changes? But more importantly, What does not? Pay attention Now Stop looking at things. Now is ever pristine Explanations are not what they seem. Like a poet spinning poetry In order to fill the scene. Now, here’s the question: Where is the scene? Now, just Now — The kNowing of these things. We look around everywhere Searching for a who Whose fancy clothing shines so brightly With a train that is as long As memory goes. But for-ever is an illusion As is the thought of for-never. Now is not when, For all there is ever is Now — The kNowing of all things. So close your eyes Take off your ears And pay attention — But not to what appears. Hear the sounds of Silence The Pristine that scenes all things. And in recognizing what is happening Focus on the Stillness — not the magic — That holds this scene. You find it by listening for the music That tracks the scenery with sound. Follow it back and You’ll find you’re ‘there’ Now. But hold on to your heart — For there is no who. And in not being a who, The last vestige of understanding parts Giving way to truth: Now — just Now. They say this is Buddha, Buddha-nature is within us all. They say this is God God’s creates the All. They say it is Brahma The Only Self of all. They say it is Maths That which rules all. (Ha! That last) But “all that is” And “who that is” Are tenuous understandings that grasp — Just more scenery filling the scene. So pay attention, Focus on what lasts, Then find the silent stillness: Now kNowing — knowing Now. Inseparable aspects of the Pristine.








